


No One Can Hear

by elirwen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Frottage, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/pseuds/elirwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles used to wonder if werewolves can smell sadness and depression, if they can say when he’s hiding his feelings behind fake cheerfulness. </p><p>They can’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Can Hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marguerite_26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/gifts).



> My first ever Teen Wolf fanfic. Might be slightly OOC, I really don't know...
> 
> I wanted it to be angsty with a nice load of emotional hurt/comfort... and then porn happened. :D
> 
> I'm gifting it to maggie because her Sterek recs kind of led me into this fandom (and because she's awesome). :)
> 
> Not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Things calm down eventually. No freshly turned werewolves or kanimas or alpha packs. 

It should be good. It is good. But somehow it’s not enough. 

Stiles goes on like nothing is wrong, spending his free time mindlessly wandering through the depths of Internet. Scott shows up on some nights and they play videogames and watch movies.

Stiles used to wonder if werewolves can smell sadness and depression, if they can say when he’s hiding his feelings behind fake cheerfulness. 

They can’t.

And so he smiles and pretends as Scott talks about Allison and true love, as he helps him study so he can stay on the lacrosse team.

Scott is fine on his own on full moon. He’s in full control and prefers spending it in woods. It’s the only night Stiles knows for sure he has for himself. 

Once a month, he lets go.

Alone, curled on his bed, he creates a fantasy world. 

His mom is still alive and healthy. His friends are actual friends, not just a pack of ungrateful puppies who tend to forget he’s human when they slam him against a wall for one of his cheeky remarks.

He imagines there was no fire and Derek’s family is whole. He wonders how different Derek would be. 

He doesn’t think about Lydia as his girlfriend. It was not meant to be. He’s not even upset about it anymore.

All he wants is someone to be there for him. He’s tired of being alone. No matter how much he clutches the blanket, it won’t do the same for him, it won’t caress him or whisper soothing nothings into his ear.

Tears slide down his cheeks as he mourns everyone and everything he lost in his life. Everything seems wrong and he doesn’t have the strength to believe it will get better.

“I’m nobody, a waste of space,” he mumbles into his pillow. “They’d be better off without me.”

He’s not sure why he says it, but it feels right.

“Dad would be sad and Scott, but others... they wouldn’t even notice I’m gone.”

He doesn’t cry anymore. He’s strangely at peace.

“Maybe I should just...” 

And he doesn’t know what he should. Get himself a cat? Try online dating? Find a therapist?

He jumps up in his bed when he hears the window opening and a thud as someone lands on the carpet. 

“Scott?” he asks, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

No answer.

“Derek?” he tries next, his heart rate speeding up even more.

“It’s not true,” Derek says.

He climbs on Stiles’ bed and lies down. 

“They care,” he says and pulls Stiles to his chest.

Stiles tenses. What is happening? Did he fall asleep?

“Relax,” Derek says and it sounds like an order, like any other time, but there’s no threat, no glaring, just warmth along his back and arm around his middle.

It doesn’t help. Every part of his body is on high alert and anxiety is building up, tremors setting in.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs.

It’s gentle, soothing.

“Why?” Stiles asks. Why did you listen? Why are you here?

“I care,” Derek says.

Stiles shakes even harder and draws in a shuddering breath.

“Should I leave?” Derek asks, pulling away, but Stiles catches his arm, pressing its palm to his chest.

“Okay,” Derek says and settles back down.

“You weren’t supposed to hear me,” Stiles says after a while, tremors subsiding, his body slumping against Derek’s. 

“I know.”

No explanation.

“I’m weak,” Stiles says.

“You’re braver than any of us.”

“I hold you back.”

“You hold us together.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that so he just closes his eyes and enjoys the moment. 

“It’s full moon,” Stiles says after a while.

He's never been good at staying silent.

“I’m aware of that,” Derek says and Stiles can hear the note of amusement in his voice.

“I mean, shouldn’t you be burning off excessive energy? Scott said you use anger to control the shift. You don’t seem angry.”

“I don’t need to be angry when I’m around you,” Derek says and presses his nose behind Stiles’ ear. 

“What are you...?” Stiles starts and then it hits him.

Allison is Scott’s anchor. Stiles is Derek’s.

“Oh,” he breathes out, his pulse speeding up once more.

Derek’s hand is splayed possessively over Stiles’s chest and it’s slowly moving lower. Apparently. full moon means horny werewolves.

“How about kissing me first?” Stiles says and wow, where did that come from?

He’s on his back with Derek lunging for a kiss not a second later. It’s messy and hot and too much. Stiles flails his hands and gasps when Derek presses his thigh against his groin.

Derek captures his wrists, pinning them onto the pillow above his head. He bears down once more, pushes the fabric of Stiles T-shirt aside and runs his tongue over Stiles’ collarbone. He doesn’t stop grinding against Stiles’ now fully hard cock, Derek’s own hardness obvious in his tight jeans. 

Too much. Too much. Too much.

“Derek, please,” Stiles breathes out.

Derek looks at him. He must see the panic in Stiles eyes or hear it in his heartbeat. He releases Stiles wrists and starts pulling away. Stiles stops him, holding onto his sides with his shaking hands.

“Slower. Just... slower,” he says and there’s understanding in Derek’s eyes as he leans down again and presses his lips to Stiles’.

It’s nothing like before, soft and gentle and unhurried. Stiles starts gasping for breath as he feels the pleasure building, delicious friction of Derek’s thigh rubbing over his cock is slowly dragging him towards the edge, no matter the layers of clothes separating their skin. Derek kisses his neck, his hand trailing along Stiles torso.

“I’m gonna...” Stiles moans. 

Derek growls into his ear and Stiles is lost, shuddering though his orgasm. He hums, floating on the bliss, vaguely aware of Derek shifting above him. The sound of zipper opening brings him back to reality.

“Oh, god,” he moans as he watches Derek jerking himself off. “Let me,” he says and strangled moan escapes Derek’s lips.

The angle is weird and uncomfortable, but Derek’s breath is hot on Stiles’ shoulder as he thrusts into Stiles’ fist, the sound of his ragged breathing is the most erotic thing Stiles has ever heard, and there’s just no way to describe the feeling when Derek moans ‘mine’ as he tumbles over the edge, painting Stiles’ stomach with hot spurts of come.

They lie side by side, catching their breaths.

“I should get cleaned up,” Stiles says, not really in the mood for a trip to the bathroom.

“I like you like this,” Derek says and spreads the mess over Stiles’ belly. 

“Possessive bastard,” Stiles mutters.

“I heard that,” Derek says and smears his come even higher up Stiles’ chest.

“I’ll be all sticky,” Stiles complains.

“Shut up, Stiles. I know you love it,” Derek says and manhandles Stiles into spooning position again. 

There’s really nothing to say to that when Derek is a portable lie detector.

Stiles knows this isn’t a miraculous solution to everything, he knows he’s still a bundle of insecurities. They’ll need to talk about whatever it is that they share now. But for now, he allows himself to sink into the warmth of Derek’s embrace and lets sleep overtake him.


End file.
